The Letter
by Shinigami's Brush
Summary: Niizuma Eiji finds a letter under his door and is determined to find the writer, but he's having a hard time. After all, it's pretty hard to find someone who technically doesn't exist, right? AU


_The Letter- Chapter One- Purple Envelope_

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><p>"But Yujiro-san, I don't want to do a name!" a young boy protested, twisting in his chair and crossing his arms in an 'x' across his chest. "Redoing drawings and going to meetings are boring!" A curly and orange-haired man grimaced and scratched his head.<p>

"Niizuma, can't you at least do something that looks like a name? Geez..." he sighed. "The department's going to rip at me if they find out I haven't been doing my job properly." Niizuma struck a pose, pointing his feathered pen at the ceiling.

"But you are doing your job as an editor. It's their job to make sure the mangaka draws something good for _Jump_, right?" Never to stay still for a long time, the boy swayed back and forth, waving his hands around, imagining a battle scene. "Pow. Bang. Whoosh!" Yujiro could feel a headache rising in his head and he crossed his arms with a displeased air.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. We'll go with that. The deadline for chapters four and five is on Friday. Got that, Niizuma?" The boy jumped up and saluted with a grin, puffing out his chest.

"Okay, I got that! I'll see you two days, Yujiro-san!" The man paused at the door and looked back.

"Just make sure if anybody asks, you are doing names and turning them in to me, alright?" Niizuma had already hopped back into his chair to continue his manuscript, but used a moment to wave a feathered pen at the leaving editor.

"You can count on me! Boom. Zip. Shhh! Fly! Fly! Fly!" Yujiro closed the door behind him with a smirk and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He had nothing to worry about. Niizuma was fine. Without sparing a glance back at the door, he left.

Inside the apartment, the mangaka was busy drawing, his pen a rocket across the blank sheets, as he narrated the art.

"Fight! Fight! Dodge. Roll. Run. Run. Run! Kick. Bang! Zoom!" He paid no mind to the late time and dimming light from outside. His assistants, Nakai and Soba, had already left an hour ago. Though, he mused as he focused on transferring the images in his mind to reality, Soba didn't seem like he was going to last any longer as his assistant. The boy was noisy and complained a lot about the work, hence there was constant loud music. 'Was' was because the neighbors had also complained about it. Niizuma scowled, but his pen never changed in speed or strayed from direction. He made a noise of annoyance. Wait.

Come to think of it, couldn't the neighbors just tell their complaints to Soba? Then they could complain all day to each other instead of nagging at Niizuma! That was a great idea! Why didn't he think of it earlier? He would have to tell that to the annoying assistant.

"Whoosh!" he exclaimed drawing a line with flourish, streaming flaring from his nostrils. He set the paper down on the ground with a cry. "Victory! Crow wins!" The boy grinned at his success and bobbed his head a few times to the music blaring from his headphones. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath through his nose and sat completely still, minus his twitching foot. He had a peculiar expression on, as if he was exerting a great amount of patience.

After a ten minutes, he straightened his back and clapped his hands together.

"Okay! Break time is over! Time for chapter six!" And soon his pen was racing across the sheets again, drawing whatever his heart desired. "Bam. Whizz. Roar!"

And into the night he worked.

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><p>The next morning was a quiet affair, but then again, it was only four-thirty in the morning, and even the near insomniac Niizuma Eiji had to sleep once in a while.<p>

It was nearly summer and birds were chirping around the city, streaking across the sky. A few cars rushed on the streets, keeping the waning night life alive. It was quiet; a tranquil hour.

The boy was resting soundly on his desk, a dry pen hanging loose from his fingertips. Small snores came from his gaping mouth and a little drool trailed down his cheek. An alarm went off from a watch on the desk, but the constant beeping failed to wake Niizuma and eventually it gave up and fell silent.

Outside the apartment door, there was a slight rustling and a purple envelope was sent flying from under the door crack to slide to a stop near the artist's chair. It barely made a sound, save for a hiss of friction.

Still, he slept on.

"To Niizuma Eiji, congratulations for getting top rankings for your first and second chapters of _Crow_. Your art is amazing as usual. But, have you noticed the rankings recently? They're falling, falling, and falling. You're missing something important. Can you tell what it is? I'll give you a hint..." Niizuma continued to read the letter, his face getting closer to the typed page with every sentence. His eyes stared at the words he was receiving and he looked deathly serious. Nearby his assistants were fervently trying to look inconspicuous as they kept their ears open to the narrated letter while still doing their job. Nakai and Soba exchanged looks, gazes exchanging the same question.

_Who __had __written __this __letter__?_

"So, here's my question to you," the boy was almost done, nearing the end of the message. "Are you a one-trick pony unable to continue something that could be incredible or will you rise to the challenge of a long series?" He paused, eyebrow furrowing in confusion. "...Sai." Saying the last word, he set the paper down on his desk and sat his chair backwards, staring at the ceiling. "That last part is written in romaji," he said, deep in thought. "To keep me from knowing your identity?" The boy lapsed into a long silence.

The two assistants, seemingly forgotten, stared openly at the normally exuberant boy. Nakai leaned over to the other.

"Hey, do you think there's anything wrong with me?" Soba snorted, and went back to his work, toning in some of the characters and Nakai hurried to do the same. Both of them had stopped at some point or another.

"He's probably fine," he said curtly.

"But," Nakai protested weakly and lowered his voice. "He's so quiet today." The other assistant turned a glare at him, pointing the end of his pen at the man.

"I don't care," he replied in an equally low voice. "As long as I get paid, I don't care whatever happens in the author's personal lives. Manga is manga. His troubles, are not mine."

"But if a series gets cancelled, we'll be out of a job!" Soba shrugged, straightening in his seat. He fixed his glasses, the lenses gleaming in the morning light.

"Then just get another one. It can't be that hard." he said with an irritated tone. "And besides, I quite like the lack of noise today. It's less annoying to work with." Nakai didn't really have anything to respond to that so he stopped the conversation and went back to inking.

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><p>"Mashiro. Mashiro!" he could hear someone calling his name, but was loath to leave the dream he was in. Everything was perfect in this dream world... A loud snap of a noise next to him. "Mashiro Moritaka!" He jerked up from the desk's surface abruptly and stammered.<p>

"Y-Yes, sensei?" The man flared his nostrils in his anger at his sleeping student and smacked his ruler on the desk's edge again, but Mashiro could see he wasn't really into it.

"I'm sorry if you find my class so dull, but please make an effort to seem like you're interested when I'm teaching," he said. The boy bowed his head in apology, closing his eyes tiredly but still appearing remorseful.

"I'm sorry, sensei. It won't happen again," he recited, knowing that was a lie. He looked up at the teacher and knew that the man knew the statement was a lie too, but the bluff was never called on and Mashiro never pressed the issue. When the teacher returned his attention to the classroom, the boy pillowed his head with his arms, prepared to go back to sleep.

He hated it, the emotion expressed in every one's eyes whenever he saw them. They reflect pity, something he despised with the bottom of his heart. It was like they viewed him to broken, defective. Mashiro gritted his teeth in frustration. He was not, what they believe, dysfunctional.

Soon, the bell rang at the end of class and there was a unified movement of students standing up. The boy slowly got out of his seat and shouldered his bag, glad it was almost the end of the year. There weren't many days of school left. He felt the teacher's eyes drilling holes into his back, but could care less. He was top of the class anyways, which was probably half of why he never got into any particularly big trouble for sleeping in class. The other half would then be because the teachers had given up on correcting his behavior.

He sighed.

Only twenty-one more days, exams, and then it would be over.

He couldn't wait.

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><p>This start is tentative, since I've only planned three chapters in and I don't know well this will be received. I hope the line breaks are where they're supposed to be. The formatting got uploaded a bit funny. XD Mashiro is a bit depressing at the end, but don't worry! There's a reason for that! I just got caught up with what's been released today, so I'm really happy I got this out.<p>

It's a bit short, but it seemed right to cut off there.

Review!

Shini


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